Suggestive
by NotThrowaway
Summary: Taylor triggers with . . . a slightly different power. She can convince people to see her differently. She does.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

CW: Sexually explicit descriptions of characters younger than 18. This is plotted smut.

Taylor Hebert wasn't quite ready to go back to school.

It had been too long already, she knew. Nobody could fault her for taking a mental health break, given all that had happened - hell, if they knew the whole story, anything less would be worrying. Still, she hadn't been back to school in almost a week, and she knew that the longer she delayed, the more likely it became that she would never go back.

Which, come to think of it, wasn't the worst idea. It wouldn't be that hard for her to make a living, and school hadn't helped her to learn anyway - she was stuck in classes below her level due to sabotage from her "fellow" students, and so she didn't have the same opportunity to learn as the other students. On balance, the quality of education didn't justify the psychological burden that Winslow High had bequeathed to her.

She knew that that wasn't really the problem. Sure, she could survive without ever going to school again. She was sixteen - not ready to face the world alone, not yet, but old enough to figure it out on the fly. No, the real problem was her fear. Intellectually, she could find reasons not to go back, but they were all lies - the real reason was that she wasn't prepared to face her fears. She needed to go back, if for no other reason than to prove to herself that she could.

As she strengthened her resolve, Taylor stiffened the middle finger that had been idly sliding up and down her slit. Staring straight into her webcam, she entered herself, her long, thin finger brushing the walls of her pussy as she gasped quietly. Her tongue darted through her closed mouth, circling and wetting her lips as she began to pump her finger in and out, tickling her clit with her index finger. Moans, gasps, not too loud, but not especially hushed.

Her laptop gave a distinct, high-pitched ping. She brought her hand up to her mouth, licking her residue off of her fingers before blowing a flirty kiss toward the camera.

"Thanks to 'weblust' for the tip!" Her voice was light and giggly, with just a hint of implication. Her hand returned to its position and she quickly worked her middle finger back into her pussy, sliding in at out at an enjoyable pace while still not putting too much effort into it. Instead she chose to focus on the camera, looking directly into it with uncharacteristic confidence and intensity.

The camming was new, and she couldn't really explain where it had come from. After being discharged from the hospital, she had been left alone in her house - her father had a pretty tightly-packed work schedule, and he wasn't home often. That he still had a job in this economy was something of a blessing, but that didn't make circumstances any easier. She had resolved in advance to take at least three days off of school to reorient herself, at the recommendation of her doctor. It felt like she had taken up camming almost on a whim - the idea had floated to the top of her mind and, recognizing that she wouldn't be able to quell it, she had instead acquiesced, giving this new venture a try.

Taylor hadn't done any research at all on the subject, instead just finding the most popular site and diving straight in, consequences be damned. This, in hindsight, was probably a good thing - she had never been secure in her body, and some of the girls she had seen since then put her to absolute shame. Had she taken the time to scope out the competition, she thought, she never would have been able to work up the confidence - it had been a near thing even despite her ignorance.

Truth be told, she still wasn't comfortable with her body. She was thin but not slim, awkward but not cute, her bust was small and her ass was flat. In terms of physical attractiveness, she couldn't compare to the most popular girls on the site - really, she couldn't compare to almost any of the girls on the site. She wasn't ugly, but she was plain, and guys don't normally want to pay to see a plain girl awkwardly touch herself. Her personality, too, was less than ideal - that was a product of shyness and insecurity more than anything, but in hindsight, it had been a major issue. On her first day, she had almost been hiding from the camera, pressing her legs together, bringing her knees up to hide her breasts, caught like a deer in headlights.

And yet, she had seen significant success, and although she didn't want to admit it, she knew exactly why.

Guys liked to watch her because of her power.

Even before she had taken up camming, she had some suspicions. Ever since the accident, people had been treating her as more capable and mature than they had before. Her father, in particular, had changed - when she told him that she needed to take a sabbatical from school, he had basically accepted that she was able to act in her own self-interest. He trusted her, more than he ever had before, to fend for herself if need be. It hadn't been conclusive, of course, nor even particularly convincing, but his strange behavior, combined with a vague recollection that superpowers tend to manifest after periods of extreme trauma, had given her the hint that she just might have developed something.

Her time as a camgirl had all but confirmed that theory. It didn't work all the time, but when she looked directly into the camera, people took note. When her viewers saw her eyes, they called her sexy, beautiful, "a good little slutty bitch" (that last guy caught a ban, but it was still a sweet sentiment, in a sick way.) The effect was persistent, too - she could convince viewers that she, a gangly black-haired plain Jane teenager, was hot stuff, and they would believe it even after she stopped exerting her influence.

A part of her was terrified of what she could do. Her working theory was that she could alter peoples' perception of her - make them see her as more attractive, more responsible, more capable, _et cetera_. It wasn't brainwashing, to be sure. She couldn't, for example, convince somebody to give her their car for no reason. Still, it was a powerful effect, and she could think of some rather unsavory ways to use it. Though she could justify it, even camming made her feel squeamish, and there were far worse things she could do.

On that first Sunday, she had attracted a small audience - her effect didn't work through still images, and so very few guys clicked on her static profile picture. A few did, though, and she was able to enrapture them with her power, building a small but devoted viewerbase. The site's algorithm favored girls who got viewers to watch for long periods of time, and so, by the end of the first day, she was occasionally appearing on the site's front page, where her profile picture was replaced by a miniaturized version of her live stream. She had quickly become one of the top-viewed girls on the site, with rivals whose tits were at least twice as big as hers and who had been building their personae over the course of months or even years.

She hadn't had a laptop at first - she had been using her Dad's desktop computer, which came with no small amount of guilt. The money started coming in, though, and by the time she was midway through the second day she had amassed enough credit to purchase a low-end laptop with a webcam from an online site. This hadn't been an entirely natural development - she spent the first half of the second day using her power to convince her audience that she was very poor and desperately in need of money, which had increased her income substantially. After covering the cost of her equipment, though, she had reversed this effect. It made her feel slimy, using her power to convince people to give her their hard-earned money, and she wasn't really camming for the profit of it anyway. In any case, it had all been uphill from there - it was easy enough to convince her dad that the money for the laptop had come from doing odd jobs around the neighborhood; she didn't think he particularly cared, but she didn't want to explain that the money had _really_ come from her whoring her body out to strangers online, and so providing an immediate explanation seemed best.

Not that what she was doing was technically _illegal_ , mind you. The laws regarding age of consent had changed pretty drastically around 2005, when it came out that many 20something Protectorate capes were getting action with their (mostly younger) groupies - though there hadn't been any allegations of sex with a minor, the PRT had figured that it was only a matter of time, and pushed legislation and cultural change to preemptively avert that scandal. Under the new laws, she, as a sixteen-year-old, was considered an adult in a sexual capacity, making what she was doing perfectly legal, even if she was one of the youngest girls on the site.

Of course, she wouldn't have been able to placate her dad by explaining that to him, had the truth ever come out.

And so the week had continued - Taylor's three-day sabbatical extended to four days, then five, and finally to a whole week, as she continued to grow her presence as a camgirl whilst refusing to acknowledge her real-world problems.

In the living present, Taylor was moaning deeply, her head tilted back as she humped a soft white pillow. It was Sunday evening, which meant that she had committed to returning to school tomorrow, and she had already resolved not to reneg on this final negotiation with her own fears. This was her last all-day cam session for quite a while, she knew, and she wanted to make it count.

Of course, it was also the weekend, which meant her viewership was way up. Mostly, this was because of teenage boys, who wouldn't be able to sit down and have another solid masturbation session for a good hundred and twenty hours. They didn't tip well, but they helped catapult her straight to the front page, which she wouldn't complain about.

Idly, she wondered if any of the guys from her school were watching. A week ago, the thought of exposing herself to somebody she knew would have terrified her - she would have been worried that news would get out, and she had no idea what she would do if that happened. Now, though, she wasn't so worried. It seemed possible that at some point during the week, one of her classmates had tuned in and recognized her, but if word had gotten around, she would have known about it. Emma and her posse knew her phone number - they would have absolutely blown her up with degrading messages if they had caught wind of this, especially since they hadn't had the chance to torment her in person. The fact that she hadn't heard anything from them meant that they hadn't heard from anyone else. Besides, she had taken some precautions, exercising her power to convince her audience to respect her wishes when it came to actual life decisions, and suggesting that she didn't want her online persona to leak out into the real world. She had originally intended to stop herself from being recognized and approached in the street, but it covered well enough against this eventuality.

In her feed, she saw what the webcam was capturing - her wet sex glistening over the soiled pillow, her chest heaving up and down as she panted, tired from such vigorous activity. She daintily ran her pinky finger up her slit, scooping up her juices, then licked it clean with a seductive grin, garnering some attention in her chatroom. She had grown accustomed to her own taste - she was sticky and sloppy and slightly sweet, not delicious, but tasty in an amusing sort of way. Still smiling, she scooped her finger across her oozing sex one more, this time allowing it to smear on her lower lip as she sucked her finger clean. Giggling girlishly, she glanced at her chatroom:

"centrality: wow ur really cute when you eat your own cum ;)

cowgirlguy: i bet youd give great head

jackass23: shes hot dam"

She had been getting more comfortable with the level of decorum in these chats - some of the guys said demeaning, degrading things, and she was willing to ban them if they went too far, but for the most part, she had come to enjoy the attention. Her audience wanted sexual release, and she freely offered herself up as an object of that pursuit. If she was objectified, well, that was sort of the whole point. In a way, this was almost better than politeness - it was deeply reassuring to know that these people wanted her in a sexual context, even when they were tactless enough to say it outright.

Of course, her power was doing the heavy lifting. That kind of put a damper on the whole situation.

She glanced at the clock in the bottom-right corner of her screen. 5:15. Her dad would be home in just over forty-five minutes

"OK, guys," she said. "I'm going to be logging off pretty soon, and I'm not going to be active for the next week or two, so I want to stage a grand finale. Any requests?"

The chatroom _exploded_.

"lonelyrobot: stick a dildo in ur ass

leprechaun: finger your ass

draconic: can you find a guy to fuck you?

voidcowboy: how many fingers do you think you can get in your cunt?

rhinoguy: deepthroat a dildo

thewingedone: Maybe something more psychological?

degenerate: good old dirty talking, maybe sum ass play"

She smiled. A lot of these ideas were hot . . . _really_ hot, if she was honest with herself. Unfortunately, she didn't own a dildo yet - she hadn't wanted to order one online, since that would be much more difficult to play off to her dad, so she had decided to go into a sex store sometime and get hooked up then. She also hadn't prepared for any anal play, so she wasn't cleaned up down there, although the thought of doing it sometime in the near future got her pretty excited. Taking these limitations into account, she began to put a plan together.

First, she pressed a "record" button on her screen. Since she wouldn't be able to cam again until the next weekend came, she wanted to leave some material available to maintain her fanbase. Luckily, the site allowed her to record sections of her stream to decorate her profile page. Her power didn't seem to work through prerecorded media, so she would still have to condition any new audience members, but this would hopefully help them get through (and get off through) the week.

She squared up to the laptop, spreading her legs and leaning back on their arms so that the camera had a great view of her cunt and face. She plunged the third and fourth fingers of her right hand deep into her pussy, her previous session having served to lubricate her sufficiently well. Her hand began to move frantically, up and down, in and out, and she masturbated furiously. She brought her left hand up to pinch at her clit, then allowed it to move on until it was pulling at her breasts and tweaking her nipples. Down below, her index finger made its way toward her slit as she adjusted her grip to accommodate it, her fingers forming a vertical plane. She whimpered with pleasure, feeling her fingers pushing maddeningly against the walls of her pussy. Then her left hand moved again, drifting over her chest and fluttering over her neck. She pushed a finger into her mouth, suckling it to the base, her lips forming a tight seal around its perimeter. High-pitched squeaks came from her throat - she didn't open her mouth, but the sound was still clearly audible. A couple of minutes passed like this, with Taylor brutally hammering her pussy with three fingers, sucking intently on an index finger. Her meager tits bounced up and down in the rhythm of her body, her entire being radiating sexuality. She struggled to keep her head level - she wanted to tilt it back and cry out, but she resisted the urge, maintaining eye contact with the camera. Her lewd noises continuously escalated in volume until a moan escaped her lips, her mouth cracking open and a thin trail of drool running down her chin and onto her chest. She tried to fit a fourth finger into her slit, her pinky, which immediately triggered another suggestive moan - her pussy wasn't long enough, and her index finger was already smushed up against her clit, so there was simply no room left for a fourth finger. Still, the effort seemed to stimulate her, and she was forced to plug up her mouth with another two fingers. Instead of trying to fit her pinky in her pink, she started to run it back and forth along the thin bridge of smooth skin between her pussy and her asshole. All the while, she kept pounding her fingers relentlessly in and out, flexing them at the knuckle to stimulate herself as intensely as possible.

She glanced at herself on the screen of her laptop, displayed like a wanton slut, and her lips twitched upward. Of all of the things her body was doing, there was one thing in particular that caught her eye - the way her thick curls framed her head, reaching down just below her shoulders before quickly thinning out. She had a brief moment of introspection, wondering how she became so comfortable with presenting herself in this way for strangers over the course of only a week, but that thought was quickly washed away by overwhelming pleasure. Nothing was wrong, nothing _could_ be wrong if it felt this incredible. The light touch of her fingers on her inner wall, the way her body moved in sync, the stretch of her jaw to accommodate her fingers, the way her drool ran down her breasts, the thrill of exhibitionism - it all tied together into one earth-shattering orgasm. The speed of her thrusts increased even further, she shoved her fingers deep down her throat, and her body began to shake, overtaken completely by base pleasure. She gagged lightly on her fingers, and suddenly she couldn't maintain eye contact - she threw her head back, eyes fluttering delightfully as the orgasm began to subside. She still couldn't hear her own moans, but she didn't doubt that they were there, and that they were loud. Her fingers stopped pumping in and out. She extracted them and lifted her tired arm so that her fingers were at her mouth, where she licked her juices off of her hand for the fifth time that day - it was something of a signature move, really. Still smiling, still with a half-crazed look in her eye, she pulled her knees backward and swung her torso around, so that she was kneeling facing the camera, head directly above the puddle left by her pussy. Neck craned upward, she began to lap it up like a kitten, keeping her eyes focused directly on the camera. She glanced again at the clock. 5:28. She was making good time.

Ass up and face down, she cleaned her cum off of her blankets until all that was left was a wet spot. She reached her right hand absently behind her and started to fondle herself, for her own benefit rather than for her audience. It was a fine balance between enjoying herself and sating her audience - it helped that she got off on trying to get the balance correct, but there was still an art to it.

She pushed her shoulders downward so that she was resting on a forearm, head pointed naturally at the camera, ass still raised high. She opened her mouth in a whorish "O", brought her her right arm up, then whipped it down with some force, feeling her open palm crack on her ass. Sticking a tongue out lewdly, she slowly spanked herself, establishing a slow, seductive rhythm. Right, pause, left, pause, right, pause. Only once the routine had been established did she begin to speak.

"I hope I've helped - " she was cut off by a loud smack, and her eyes squeezed tightly as she let out a girlish gasp. Opening her eyes and shuddering, she began again " - you guys get off. I - " _smack_ " - love helping you cum." _Smack_. "I wish you were all here, that way - " _smack_ " - I could help more. Do you want that?" _Smack_. "I wish I could suck all of your cocks. I wish - " _smack_ " - I could feel your big - " _smack_ " - throbbing - " _smack_ " - dicks in my hand. You could fuck me, if you wanted." _Smack_. "Just pick up my tight teen body and throw - " _smack_ " - me on the bed, take me like I'm yours. Fuck my ass, yeah?" _Smack_. "Fucking pound my ass, make me take it like a good girl. Do you want that?" _Smack_. "I want that. I want that so bad."

Taylor bit her lower lip, her eyes shining bright due to the pain. She started smacking double time, almost once a second, occasionally letting out a playful shriek when her spank came a little harder than intended.

She removed her left arm from beneath her, resting entirely on her neck and shoulders, to run a finger across her pussy. She didn't stick it in - she didn't want another orgasm that intense - but its contact added to her stimulation, and she saw her face flush on the screen. The clock showed that she still had a few minutes left, so she returned to her slower spanking speed, sticking her tongue out and giving long, breathy pants. Occasionally she would lick her lips, or tuck her tongue back inside to bulge her cheek, simulating a blowjob. She spent a few minutes like this, unconsciously playing with herself, smacking her ass and panting like an eager slut. When the clock read 5:40 she stopped, turning around and sitting up so that her cherry-red ass rested lightly above her soft heels. She shook her ass side-to-side, resisting the urge to scratch, then sat in a normal position, facing the camera and putting a finger on her pussy for effect.

"I hope you guys enjoyed that little show!," she said with a wink. "I know I did. I'm going to log off now, so I'll see you next week. Bye!" She ended the recording and then the stream, letting out a satisfied sigh. 5:43, two minutes ahead of schedule. Now for the housekeeping.

First things first, she pinned the recording to her profile page, licking her lips subconsciously as she did so. She hadn't planned to address her viewers like that, begging them to come in and fuck her. She supposed that she wouldn't be opposed - she was a virgin, but her hymen was broken, and she wasn't in any way sexually innocent. In fact, though it hardly seemed possible given her personality in real life, her online persona was downright slutty. She supposed that that was what she enjoyed about camming: the freedom of it. She was free to act without consequences, free to enjoy her sexuality, for the benefit of people who enjoyed it just as much.

She had realized, at some point in the week, that some fraction of her audience was made up of girls, and she was surprised to realize that she didn't enjoy them any less. She didn't really have them in mind while performing, although they liked the same sort of stuff, so it wasn't really a big deal, but the idea of being personally intimate with another woman was hot. She hadn't been bisexual before, she was sure, so this had to be an effect of her power.

That train of thought wrapped itself up rather neatly just as the video finished uploading. Next up, messages.

There were one, two, three . . . a lot of dick pics. Way too many. Those, she immediately deleted.

Some angry PMs from other camgirls. It seemed that site politics did not favor the up-and-newcomers, as some smaller streams seemed to take great offense to her meteoric rise. Some of the lines were choice: "A plain bitch like you can only get views by acting like a whore, I'm sure." "I hope you get fucked by a dog." The first few times she had been surprised, but now she just thought it was funny. Inevitably, these streamers ended up actually watching her stream, hoping to steal the magic, and then her power would get to work on them. These girls were petty and catty and full of shit, but they couldn't really do anything to her without watching her stream, so they couldn't hurt her in any tangible way.

There was one sincere message, from a streamer named "ggfan69." Taylor recognized the name - she was a petite blonde girl who did a lot of Glory Girl roleplay. It was kind of creepy, but having seen the real Glory Girl, Taylor at least understood the appeal. This girl lived in Brockton Bay, according to her, and was just 19 years old - older than Taylor, but still pretty young in the grand scheme of things. She was too short to pass as Glory Girl, and her hair was a bit too close to platinum, but she was very pretty all the same, with inward-tilted features than made her look perpetually curious.

The message's tagline read "sent 2 minutes ago." Taylor opened it.

"Hey girl! Just wanted to tell you that the stream you just finished was superrrrr hot - I came like three times watching it lol. Anyway, it's too bad that you're not going to be streaming next week - I was kind of hoping we could try to meet up and do a stream together. Us Brockton Bay girls got to stick together, right? Idk if you're into girls but if so, do you want to maybe coordinate schedules? We could maybe figure out a time to meet up and stream together?

Love you xoxo,

Sadie"

Taylor still had a few minutes before her dad arrived, so she clicked on "Sadie's" profile. To her surprise, the other girl was currently streaming. Clicking on the stream, it made a little more sense to Taylor - the other girl was basically sitting naked in front of her camera, playing with her pussy with one hand and browsing with the other. Lots of other girls did this full-time, Taylor knew, so if they weren't doing anything, it made sense for them to just get naked in front of the camera and do whatever they were already planning on doing, especially since the site's algorithm also favored girls who streamed more.

Hot as Sadie was, Taylor still had other things to do. Namely, she had to shower, to make sure that Danny didn't smell the sex on her. It was a five-minute affair, in and out and into regular clothes in the blink of an eye. She signed out of her account, cleared her history and closed her laptop, sure that her dad wasn't tech-savvy enough to find her account even if he knew where to look. She also made a mental note to message Sadie back about that meetup - she wasn't totally sold, and she didn't know how their schedules would align, but it did sound kind of hot.

Her work done for the day, Taylor began to pack for the next. Her teachers had been instructed to email her any homework they assigned while she was gone, and half of them had actually done it - for each of those classes, she had a neat pile of loose-leaf papers held together by a binder clip, a week's worth of homework per class. She packed her backpack neatly - she didn't expect that it would help matters, but it was meditative in a way, making the experience seem less chaotic and more under control.

About a minute later, she heard the garage door opening. It was Danny, bearing Mexican takeout in a bag. Both Danny and Taylor loved Mexican takeout, but they hated eating it, because they knew what it represented. It meant Danny was absolutely exhausted from a long day at work and would pass out on his bed within the next hour.

This was no exception - by 7:30, Danny was unconscious. He would be up at five the next morning, he would wake Taylor before leaving for work, and he would probably repeat the same routine.

With her dad asleep, Taylor would probably have been able to get away with streaming, but she wasn't comfortable doing it with Danny in the house, and besides, she had ended on a high note.

Taylor turned in early as well - she was in bed by ten. There was no more preparation to be done, no more excuses to be made, no way at all to avoid the issue, and somehow that comforted Taylor.

She would be back at school tomorrow.

 **A/N: Not sure why, this just popped into my head and I wrote it in one go. Any thoughts are appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

" _It was a sweet fantasy . . . a world where everyone is free. But now it's morning and I have to go kiss her aerobicized ass."_

 _They know they know they all know . . ._

It wasn't going to be easy. She knew that it wasn't going to be easy. Knowing didn't make it any easier.

Her eyes shifted uncontrollably as she made her way to her homeroom, giving everyone and everything a nervous glance. It seemed like there were too many faces pointed her way, too many people noticing her as she weaved her way through the forest of bodies and backpacks. Was she imagining it? She was probably imagining it. It didn't matter - the dread bubbled in her gut all the same.

She caught a guy giving her an odd look and immediately broke eye contact. Eye contact was dangerous. Her power was much stronger in-person than over a livestream, and she didn't have perfect control over its effects, especially not in a mental state like this. Prolonged eye contact would almost certainly cause the target to notice something strange, and she couldn't risk that, not yet. With a few nimble steps, she disappeared once again into the crowd.

It took a few moments for what had just happened to sink in.

A guy had been staring at her.

That never would have happened before. Before, for the most part, she had been ignored, too insignificant to merit any notice. Some of the girls in her grade might have given her some grief, but for the most part, she had stayed out of the way, not leaving the background.

Now, she had been recognized, and it wasn't difficult to figure out why.

She quickened her pace, her face flushing with embarrassment. Why had she _ever_ thought that it would just turn out fine? Why had she done it? Why had she . . . oh God, last night, why had she _said_ those things?

Taylor cursed her foolishness, her naiveté, her total abandonment of the instincts which had kept her alive thus far. A few days off and she thought she could get away with something that bold? It had been stupid, stupid, and she would pay the price for it in time.

And yet, as she navigated the treacherous hallway, she paid no price. A couple of stares sure, more leering and intent than she would have liked, but nothing aggressive. At least she hadn't abandoned all caution - it seems that her power's instructions had kept her moonlighting discreet. That didn't assuage her fears, but it ruled out some worst-case scenarios.

The bell rang, Mrs. Knott started to take roll, and Taylor quickly switched back into survival mode. If Emma and her posse didn't learn about her camming, she could escape unscathed. She could probably even keep doing it, if she was careful . . .

Or she could stop taking such big risks with what was, unfortunately, her life. Either way, she had to be hyperalert for the next several hours. Some of the girls might have been a bit nervous about sending a girl to the hospital, but those that remained would have a week's worth of unsated bloodlust to take out on her, so she couldn't expect life to be any easier than before.

It didn't take Taylor long to settle back into her old routine. Somewhere in her mind was a shelf full of questions and fears and uncertainty about the future, but that would all have to wait.

For now, she had a _lot_ of homework to catch up on.

The bell rang at the correct time, signalling the end of class. Taylor was surprised to find that she had almost caught up on her computer programming homework - of course, the semester had just started, so the class wasn't doing anything _too_ difficult, but it really didn't feel like a week's worth of material. Perhaps it just wasn't a difficult class, or perhaps, just maybe, she was actually _good_ at the one class where she would be left unmolested.

She almost snorted at that. As if she would be so lucky.

Her next class would certainly be worse, though not necessarily harder. World Issues, taught by the "bodacious" Mr. Gladly. His description, not hers.

He wasn't that bad, not really. Just too worried about his own reputation among the students to really assert himself, which, ironically, got him labeled as a pushover and an easy A. For most students, that was just fine. For Taylor in particular, it was worse, especially considering that Madison Clements, one of Emma's inner circle, was in the class as well, along with a few other girls who were all too happy to join in on the fun and get some points with Madison. To make matters worse, she sat right next to Greg Veder, who was _exactly_ the kind of guy to perv out on camsites . . .

Yeah, this was going to suck.

Walking briskly, arms pressed to her sides so as to take up as little space as possible, Taylor noted that she had built up an indifference to the occasional leering glance. She almost chuckled - this was what it must feel like to be a hot person. She wondered how Emma handled this sort of thing, knowing that guys were mentally undressing her everywhere she went, knowing the things they would do to her if they got the chance. Taylor found herself aroused by that particular thought, and cursed her newfound bisexuality. Emma was a mythic bitch, but she was also really fucking hot, and if circumstances weren't different, Taylor wouldn't mind a little time alone with her . . .

No, no, dangerous thoughts. Hatefucking, from what she understood, didn't tend to go well for either party. Besides, she didn't really know how her powers worked. Even if, against all ethical standards, she _were_ able to seduce Emma into sexsomething of that nature, she didn't know if the effects of her power were permanent. They might wear off at any time, leaving behind a jilted lover.

And wasn't _that_ a terrifying thought. Her power might wear off. Of _course_ that was possible, there was no reason for her to believe that she could have a permanent effect on the human brain, and she had already put herself in a situation where her powers were the only thing keeping her from ruin.

Well, at least that was one tough decision made. She wouldn't stop camming. She couldn't, not until she tested this further. If the effect of her power were to wear off, her identity would be suddenly revealed, which, to say the least, would not end well for her. For what must have been the hundredth time that day, Taylor cursed her prior stupidity - a week of living without regard for consequences may well have set her course for several years. She had spent so long staying afloat, putting off all ambition, hoping only to escape this place relatively unscathed, and a single lapse might have given all of that up.

But there was no use worrying about that now. One step off of the path of perfection might have doomed her, but she had no way of changing the past. _Roll with the punches_ , she thought to herself, noticing her clenched teeth and forcing her jaw to relax.

Lost in thought as she was, Taylor was surprised when she reached Mr. Gladly's classroom - she had been paying no attention whatsoever to her movement, slipping through the hallway on autopilot as she tried to put her worries out of her head. She walked through the doorway, surveying the classroom warily. Madison had already arrived; she seemed to be waiting for somebody, probably Julia. Madison's eyebrows rose in shock when she noticed Taylor, and her hand went immediately to her pocket, retrieving her cell phone. Taylor supposed that that made sense - the other girls hadn't yet been informed of Taylor's return, an event they had probably been waiting for all week.

Her body tightening, Taylor shuffled stiffly to her seat. Backpack off, grab a notebook, pencil, check. Write the date. Taylor was completely methodical, doing everything exactly as she had before. She almost hoped that Madison would walk by her desk and throw pencil shavings in her hair or something. That would represent a return to normalcy, it would mean that life at school would be essentially as bad as it had been and no worse. Of course, it had already been bad enough to cause her to manifest powers, but at that point, Taylor was having trouble taking her mind off of worst-case scenarios.

Instead, Madison finished her text, tucked her phone away, and gave Taylor a curious glance.

A glance could mean any number of things. It could mean that Madison was surprised that Taylor had returned at all, that they had thought she would give up for good after being hospitalized. It could mean that they had some twisted welcome-back prank planned. It could mean that Madison knew about the streams, maybe that she had watched them herself and . . .

No, no. Dangerous thoughts.

It had only been a second or two, but it was enough. Scrupulously avoiding eye contact, Taylor reached a shaky hand into the front pocket of her backpack and retrieved a pair of sunglasses.

They were the only other purchase she had made, besides her new laptop: prescription sunglasses. Some testing had revealed that tinted lenses mitigated the effects of her power, and she had ordered them online almost immediately thereafter. They were out-of-place in Brockton Bay's grey, rainy climate, but if she wanted to live and be treated normally, they were an absolute necessity.

They would earn her more teasing, of course. She wasn't sure what they would come up with, but they always came up with something. Any attempt to change her look was met with scorn and mocking. Even as she replaced her glasses, she heard Madison stifling a giggle. The shorter girl pulled her phone out and extended her arm, obviously trying to get a picture. Taylor didn't flinch or turn away - they would see it anyway, one way or another, so there was no point.

If it mitigated the chances of her losing control of her powers and hurting someone, it was worth it.

Even if that person really deserved it.

She nodded her head, trying to convince herself as much as anything. _Yes, even then_.

With the bell due to ring in about a minute, Julia strolled through the door with characteristic swagger in her gait. She was immediately flagged down by Madison, who waved her over to an open seat. Madison directed her attention to Taylor with an outstretched finger and the two shared conspiratorial whispers. Taylor wondered what they were talking about, but their conversation was too quiet to be overheard, at least from her position.

Greg Veder jumped through the doorway an instant before the bell rang - when he noticed her, he gave a look of disbelief. It seemed that he, like Madison, had suspected that Taylor would never come back - he thought she had dropped out to become a stripper or something. To be fair, she almost had. He took his normal seat next to hers, but seemed almost afraid of her, sitting so that almost half of his body was situated off of the end of the chair opposite her.

So he knew.

Taylor sighed. This was going to be a _long_ class period.

The class period ended and Taylor found herself locked in a stall, quietly eating her lunch. It was only temporary, she promised herself, she would lock herself in stalls indefinitely. Just until she figured out how her powers worked, so that she could avoid causing any trouble. Once there was no risk of accidentally frying someone's brain, she would allow herself to reenter the social scene in whatever limited capacity she could. Not hiding, just regrouping.

She couldn't even convince herself that that was true.

Taylor knew that this hadn't been a good day. She felt her face tighten, and knew that if this course of events continued, she would be a sobbing wreck in a matter of seconds.

Instead, she took a deep, shuddering breath, trying desperately to stay calm and rational.

She took stock of the day's events. Honestly, they hadn't been much worse than she had expected. She hadn't believed that she would go completely unrecognized - she had, after all, become one of the top-viewed girls on her site, and a significant fraction of her viewership was comprised of teenage boys. It wouldn't be a problem, not really, unless she made it into one by worrying about it so much.

Moving on, moving on. Was it the bullying? No, definitely not. They hadn't even _done_ anything yet - Madison had definitely alerted the others about her return, and they were almost certainly plotting some sort of welcome-back prank, but even that couldn't be _too_ bad. It couldn't be worse than the locker, certainly, and she had survived even that. They could hurt her, they _would_ hurt her, but they couldn't ruin her.

Taylor felt a tear roll down her cheek. OK, so maybe this hadn't been the best way to keep herself from crying.

She knew why she felt this way, why it was so much worse than it had been before. It was freedom.

For an entire week, they hadn't pushed her, hadn't teased her, hadn't layed a _single fucking finger_ on her. She had always known it would come eventually - eventually she would go off to college, or they would get bored, or something would have thrown off the dynamic, but she hadn't been prepared for it when it came.

And then she had given it up.

She didn't have to give it up. She could have moved out and started camming full-time, had she really wanted to. Failing that, she could have demanded a new school. After what had happened, she was sure her father would oblige.

Hell, she could have joined the Wards and demanded fucking _Arcadia_. She wasn't sure exactly how they would market a power like hers, but they would have let her join if for no other reason than to keep her from supervillainy - if she was willing to ethically compromise herself, she would be a much more potent threat.

Freedom was a curse, really. In exchange for all her freedom of action, she had given up her freedom _from_ responsibility. She was back in school, yes, but this time it was her fault, because she knew full well that she was walking into a deathtrap. With freedom came complete knowledge of every missed opportunity, every failure, every mistake, every consequence.

She knew what she had to do.

She pushed her hand down the waist of her jeans, her palm pressed lightly against the skin of her hips. She let her body extend, her spine lengthening as she threw her head back. Her eyes closed lightly and she let her jaw fall, allowing the tiniest space to appear between her lips.

One finger, no more. She extended her index finger and let it graze the bare skin of her pussy, her small tuft of hair feeling smooth and soft on her knuckle. She made a few long, gentle strokes up her slit - nothing rough, nothing intense, just enough that she really felt it.

She had come back to school, but she was still free. She was free to finger herself in a stall, if she so desired.

Sure, maybe it wasn't the healthiest sexual awakening, but it wasn't hurting anyone.

She caressed her lower lips more intimately, two fingers sliding up and down her dampening pussy, their tips dipping just inside the soft folds as they continued their relay. She let her tongue sneak out of her mouth, licking her lips and smiling subtly, as she continued to finger herself.

It felt different, doing this in school. Anybody could walk in on her at any moment, anybody could see her body stretched to full length, her hand shoved deep inside her pants, the wanton sluttiness on her face. The only thing hiding her from the world was a thin metal door with a lock that didn't work, behind which could be anything and anyone.

In some ways it was a terrifying thought, but at the same time it was incredibly sexy. A part of her (the same part, she assumed, that had been coming up with all of these dangerous thoughts) wanted her to be found. She didn't care what happened next; the thrill was as much in exhibiting her own sexuality as in the sexual potential of her situation.

Holding her lip with her teeth, she slipped a finger inside of herself.

She squeaked, any her free hand flew to her mouth, muffling the quiet moans that followed. She froze and loosened her grip, but left her hand in place, covering her open mouth. Only once she was sure she could keep the noise down did she resume her motion, a single digit stimulating the walls of her cunt, the intensity amplified by the sheer naughtiness of masturbating in a public bathroom.

And then she stopped.

And then she stopped.

Why was she doing this? Was it a desperate attempt to assert her control over the world? She was free to masturbate in a public stall - symmetrically, she was free to _not_ masturbate in a public stall. Or was it the other way around: was she internalizing shame, was she surpressing herself because others had made her feel she wasn't good enough?

Or maybe it was just hormones. Maybe she was a horny teenager, masturbating in the ladies room was a bad idea, and it was a bad idea to try to formulate some life philosophy based on her inflated teenage libido.

As the glow of endorphins left her, that last possibility started to seem far too reasonable to discount.

Slightly miffed, she licked her fingers clean, readjusted her panties, and left the stall. Class would start soon enough anyway - she probably wouldn't have had time to get off, and leaving herself horny and unsatisfied didn't seem appealing. All tidied up, she left the bathroom and began the trek to her art class.

Which she shared with Sophia, who had undoubtedly planned some cruel prank to play . . .

Taylor was beginning to wish she had taken the time to release her stress when she had the chance, but no. She had made her decision for good, rational reasons and she would stick with it. _That_ was freedom.

Somehow the day passed without incident, and somehow that made Taylor even _more_ nervous. Madison had definitely noticed her in World Issues, and even if she hadn't, Emma and Sophia had acknowledged her presence with uncannily similar sneers. Besides, she hadn't taken her sunglasses off all day, for fear that her power would go haywire, and despite their necessity, she knew exactly the image they gave off. She had painted a massive target on her head, and her tormentors had seen her, noticed it, and completely refused to take even the smallest shot.

Maybe somebody had told them off? She doubted it. She certainly hadn't had any help from the administration before, and even if the adults were spooked by the accident, Madison had very clearly signalled her presence to the other two. They knew she was back and they were planning something; those things were undeniably true, and pretending otherwise would only set her up for shock later.

But the only time they had completely let up had been . . .

Well, it had been right before the locker, to lull her into a false sense of security. Surely they weren't planning something of that magnitude again, right? They knew she had been hospitalized, they knew the risks. Were they trying to kill her?

Oh God, were they trying to _kill her_?

She didn't believe it, she didn't want to believe it, it didn't make any sense. And yet it explained their actions perfectly. If they were setting up another dangerous prank, they could have decided to use the same tactic as before. They knew they had gone too far, so they must have been planning to convince her that an authority figure had stepped in, that she had been saved. Then they would go in for the . . .

Or maybe they were just trying to worry her? Leave her alone, let her beat herself up over it. It was vicious enough, Emma would certainly have appreciated that idea. They didn't have to waste their time bullying her, she would tear herself apart with nervousness given enough time. It was petty, it was vindictive, it was narcissistic, it was everything Emma had become.

Was that wishful thinking? Was she trying to avoid the possibility that they were planning something just as big? Could she afford to be wrong?

Emma wouldn't _really_ kill her, would she? Their friendship was completely gone, Taylor wasn't delusional enough to doubt that, but there still had to be _something_. Even if Emma hated her completely, their relationship wasn't gone in her mind, hate and love being two sides of the same coin. Emma was calling the shots, and Emma couldn't be trying to kill her. She didn't believe that. She couldn't believe that.

Taylor decided on a moderate path. She would stay on her guard, she wouldn't let herself fall into any obvious traps, but she would _not_ allow them to get inside her head. They probably wouldn't try anything that could cause permanent harm, not after the first time, but if they did, she would be ready. If they gave up the ruse and went back to petty attacks, she could deal with that. Caution, safety, but not terror.

Unfortunately, this plan did not gel well with the fact that she was currently hiding out in a stall for the second time that day.

It had seemed reasonable at the time; she would leave the school late to avoid ambush, and the stall was just as good a fortress as any. Now, though, it seemed stupid - she _could_ deal with their more minor attacks, and they couldn't have put anything major together in a single day. She couldn't let them control her action like this.

Mustering her courage, Taylor uncurled her body and left the stall She made her way down the hall, repeating a mantra in her head. _Freedom, freedom, freedom_ . . .

A body jumped out at her from an indentation in the wall, and she shrieked. Immediately, she began cursing herself - she wasn't sure what their game was, but she couldn't show weakness like that, it would only encourage them. They were like sharks tasting blood, they could smell fear.

And then Taylor's mind went blank. Her assailant was _not_ a teenage girl. It was a boy, at least six foot three, Asian, covered in tattoos

Holding a knife.

Before she could process what was happening, he spoke.

"Don't move, bitch." His face betrayed no emotion, but his tone was almost angry. Not angry at her, not really directed at all, just underscored by some sort of rage. "I've heard all sorts of things about you. Sleeping around like a fuckin' whore in a school dominated by the ABB? Yeah, not smart. I think you're coming with me."

Taylor recovered from her shock, processing what he had just said. What did he mean, sleeping around, and why would the ABB . . .

Oh.

Since she was quite young, her father had enforced a strict curfew. Home before sundown, every day, no exceptions. The reason, she had later figured out, was the ABB. Of the city's gangs, the ABB was the only one that specialized in sex trafficking. Teenage girls could be kidnapped off the streets and pressed into prostitution; sometimes they escaped, sometimes they didn't. It was terrifying, living in a city where that happened regularly, but her father had told her that as long as she followed a few rules, she would be safe. Don't stay out late, don't walk through gang turf . . . and don't draw the wrong kind of attention.

Yet another thing she had failed to consider.

"I'll be sampling the merchandise, of course. My boys are obsessed with you - can't say I see why, so you must be a damn good lay. You'd better be prepared to face some consequences if you don't meet my expectations." He held the knife at arm's length, the shining tip less than a foot from her chest. "Turn around and follow my instructions."

He wouldn't rape her here, would he? There were security cameras, there were people still in the building.

There weren't many people still in the building; she had been in that stall for a while. There was no rescuer coming for her - if she went with him now, he would take her somewhere where she would be even harder to find. She had read somewhere that kidnapping victims were much less likely to make it back if they went anywhere with their captors.

"No," she said, tearing her sunglasses away from her face, a temple ripping off of its hinge. _You don't want to kill me, you don't want to kill me,_ she thought, praying for any sort of help from her power.

The man took a step forward, the knife's tip settling just over an inch from her, but he didn't attack.

"I don't want to kill you, but I will if I have to. Fucking move, or this doesn't end well." His voice was still seething.

And then he screamed and stepped backwards, his hand flying to his shoulder. His grey shirt became tainted with red, and protruding from his shoulder was an arrow, black and sleek and in his fucking shoulder what is happening -

Before she could speak, Taylor was overtaken by a dark fog that materialized into a person in front of her. The person was wearing a dark black costume that covered every inch of their body, and held a crossbow in their right hand.

The person retrieved a pair of handcuffs from somewhere in their costume and attached them to the prone man, who swiped several times at the figure, but seemed unable to make any sort of contact. His hands cuffed, the hero stood up and gave him a strong kick in the head, which seemed to knock him unconscious immediately. They pulled their arrow out of the wound, prompting a little spurt of blood as he began to lose blood, and wiped it clean on his shirt before storing it in a quicker. Only then did they turn to face Taylor.

"Oh my God, who are you?" _I'm so sorry this isn't my fault who are you I swear it's not my fault . . ._

The person immediately turned away and ran, reaching the end of the hallway before turning to gas and going _right through the wall_.

Taylor couldn't react to that, and elected not to try. Hands shaking, she turned toward the stairs - the principal would still be in school, and she would have a phone to call you the police. It was only then that she noticed her sunglasses on the ground, still ripped in two pieces.

And suddenly everything made sense. She remembered her state of mind when the hero turned around, she had been thinking rather aggressively at the hero and she _hadn't had her sunglasses on_ and she couldn't control her power and it made a lot of sense that they would run away from a mind controller if they noticed it happening.

Taylor thought she recognized the cape that had saved her, she had seen them somewhere on the news. They were a Ward? On of the newer ones?

Oh God, she had used her power on a Ward, and they had _noticed_ oh God this day could not have gone more wrong.

Taylor retrieved her regular glasses from her backpack and put them on, her vision coming into focus. She would just keep her head down on the bus ride home. No eye contact, none at all. Definitely no conversation. She walked slowly down the stairs, her entire body shaking, trying her best not to collapse right there.

That night, Sophia Hess made several texts. For the first time in years, she felt guilty.

 **A/N: So in this story, Taylor's real power is convenient plot events! I hope you'll excuse these plot contrivances - it's bad writing, but it gets us to better places overall.**

 **In other news, it turns out I can't write a one-girl sex scene. I tried to sit down and knock it out several times, but it just wasn't happening, so I just skipped it completely, which means no porn this chapter. Hopefully that won't happen again for a while. Luckily, I haven't lost the ability to write bullshit teenage philosophy.**

 **I'm not completely sold on this chapter, so constructive criticism is very much appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Emma: ok i think im good on the details. Run me through it so im sure?

Sophia: right after school i saw a bunch of ABB guys grouping up

Sophia: pretty sus so i checked them out - turns out they were planning on running a kidnapping

Emma: with u so far

Sophia: yeah so i find the guy they brought in and follow him

Sophia: keep my distance, record everything for evidence, wait for him to do something i can get him on

Sophia: its easier if they make a move first, then i can justify force

Sophia: he says hes gonna do shit, i move in, girl says no

Sophia: guy didnt look like he was gonna go through with it, but i shot him anyway. fucker deserved it.

Emma: o she stood up for herself? Impressed

Emma: should we bring her in?

Emma: who was it anyway?

Sophia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. For some reason, some part of her still wanted to tell Hebert everything. She didn't know where the compulsion had come from, and she sure as hell wasn't going to actually do it, but the idea was there, eating away at her. It reminded her of standing on a bridge and realizing that she had the power to jump off - it was the scary thing about self-control. She made her own choices, but she had somehow identified the worst choice, and it kept jumping in front of her . . .

She had told Emma as a way of satisfying that urge, hoping that if she told Emma some of the details, she would be able to get Taylor off her mind. Quickly, though, she had realized that that wouldn't work - if Emma knew what had happened, she would want to bring Taylor in, and Sophia would have to explain what had happened anyway. And now Emma wanted more details, which of course Sophia couldn't give her. All roads lead to Taylor.

Sophia: thats the fuckin crazy part

She typed rapidly, then threw her phone across the room onto a cushioned chair. Where had that come from? What if she had sent that?

She retrieved her phone to erase the message.

Standing on the railing, looking down at the coursing river. Taking her life in her hands. She alone could decide, and freedom was the freedom to make bad decisions. In her mind's eye, a girl diving off of a wooden bridge, splashing down in the river below, being pulled downstream. No longer in control of herself, no longer free. Actions and consequences.

She selected the message and erased it, before she could do something she would regret.

The truth was incredibly dangerous, but, as Sophia considered it further, a lie didn't seem much safer. It wasn't impossible that Taylor would talk - normally, it would have been an opportunity to accuse her of attention-seeking, but Emma wasn't dumb. She would connect the dots, and Sophia would end up in hot water.

It was a risk she would have to take.

Sophia: idk just some girl

Emma: too bad, sounds like she could of been cool. Imma sleep. Talk tomorrow?

Sophia: yeah

It hadn't really been Hebert's fault, Sophia knew. She was weak, sure, but she didn't deserve the ABB. When it had come right down to it, she had been strong - she wasn't totally useless.

The things the guy had said were still plaguing her. It had sounded like they were targeting Hebert specifically. Why would they have wanted her? As far as Sophia knew, she was a virgin, and she wasn't particularly good-looking. Had they had the wrong girl? Possibly. There was another possibility, though.

There are only so many times you can call a teenage girl a whore before her peers start to believe it. Had they crossed that line? Had they created a reputation for Taylor?

Had Taylor been trapped in their mess?

So many thoughts that Sophia couldn't shake. She told herself that it wasn't anything to worry about, that she hadn't gone too far.

She knew it was. She knew she had.

If Taylor had known what Sophia was thinking at that moment, she would have proceeded with utmost caution. She may have lived a boring, normal life for several years yet, met a guy, settled down, had a kid, and died one morning as her town was vaporized.

However, Taylor had not known what Sophia was thinking. Taylor didn't have a single thought about Sophia in her head - she had spent the last couple of hours researching the local cape scene, specifically Shadow Stalker, the girl who had saved her from the ABB enforcer.

Apparently Shadow Stalker had a bit of a history with the law. She had started her career as a vigilante, dealing with street-level criminals with more violence than the Wards would have allowed. At some point she went to far and was taken in - it was an open secret that she had tried to kill someone, and had it not been for a stroke of luck, Shadow Stalker would have been sent to prison on a murder charge.

As it was, though, he was found before he bled out, soon enough to save him, and Shadow Stalker became a probationary member of the Wards. Speculation suggested that she didn't have a great relationship with the rest of the team, given the circumstances of her presence, her attitude in public appearances, and the fact that she wasn't known to attend Arcadia like the rest of the Wards. That made sense, at least - it was possible that Shadow Stalker was a student at Winslow, which would explain why she had been there.

So she had been saved by a moody Ward prone to violence, and subsequently hit said Ward with a Master blast strong enough to get the girl to run off. There was a good chance that she would go to the PRT, which would basically be the end for her. She knew that they didn't fuck around when it came to Masters - during her research, she had learned about some stage singer with a Master power who had been arrested just a few weeks ago. It was her first incident, and it didn't look like she had acted intentionally, but she would probably get life in prison all the same. If Shadow Stalker went to the PRT, a similar fate would befall her.

In that case, what could she do? Without any control over her power, she wouldn't be able to keep herself from being taken in. In a way, it wasn't worth worrying about - if Shadow Stalker chose to report her, there probably wasn't any way out of her predicament.

On the other hand, if she stayed quiet, things would get trickier. She probably wouldn't risk revealing her civilian identity, so she wouldn't confront Taylor directly, but there was already a group in the school interested in tormenting her - whoever Shadow Stalker really was, she wouldn't have much trouble telling Emma and her crew about Taylor's situation, which would be just as bad, if not worse. She didn't want to imagine what kind of blackmail they would pull if they knew. It would be worse than if they knew about her camming.

And that was a possibility Taylor hadn't even considered - what if Shadow Stalker had recognized her from camming? Taylor's power was turned on, sure, but she wasn't entirely sure if she had been using it or not. Nobody else had noticed when she used her power, although she hadn't used it with that strength before. It was unlikely, but not so unlikely as to be unworthy of consideration. If Shadow Stalker followed her stream and had run off due to embarrassment, then she probably wouldn't be reported. It didn't seem like Shadow Stalker to react that strongly to that sort of thing, but Taylor didn't know anything about the girl besides what she had gleaned from Internet reports.

It was a mess, to be sure. There were a million different ways Shadow Stalker could have perceived their encounter, a million ways she could react. Taylor had no way of knowing what the other girl would do.

But the answer hit her hard, and in hindsight it was obvious. She needed to learn to control her power, and fast.

If the PRT came for her, she would have to make an escape somehow, and her power was the only way that could work. If Shadow Stalker leaked her secret to Emma, she would need to be strong enough to clean up the mess. If Shadow Stalker was one of her viewers, then it was only a matter of time before a real incident happened, in which case this would serve as her wake-up call.

She had wanted to avoid acting aggressively with her powers, hoping to mitigate the risk of being found out, but it seemed that being inexperienced was a risk of its own, one that she could no longer afford to take. The only way to prepare for every eventuality was to get stronger, and fast.

So she would practice at school. She would use her power to influence people aggressively, figure out exactly what she was capable of, and make her life more bearable in the process.

In the meantime, though, she couldn't afford to stop camming. It was clear that the precautions she had taken were not sufficient, and if she was really letting loose, she could make her protections far stronger. Of course, she wouldn't have time for a session until the weekend. Still, she decided to log in and check up on things.

The first thing she saw on her profile was the video she had recorded the previous night. As the mousover preview played, she was shocked at how erotic she looked. She had really gotten into it, more than she had intended, and the finished product was better for it. It seemed her viewers agreed - the video has already been played about fifteen-thousand times in less than twenty-four hours.

On to messages. Dick pic, dick pic, tit pick, more dick pics, this was fucking insane. Nothing worthwhile here. Delete, delete, delete.

Oh, not that one. Taylor eventually found the message that Sadie had sent her the day before. She had been planning to reply to that, hadn't she? Well, no time like the present.

"Hi! I'd definitely be interested in doing a stream with you - I don't have a lot of experience being with girls, but it sounds hot and I'm very open to trying new things. My schedule is a bit messy, but if you could tell me what works best for you I'd probably be able to make room, as long as I know about it in advance." And sent.

Sadie responded in less than a minute - unsurprisingly, when Taylor checked her profile, she saw that the other girl was streaming, just sitting naked in front of a camera. Actually, now that she got a better look, the other girl was stunningly pretty. She was sitting upright on a soft bed, her legs spread just enough that her sex was visible. Her right hand alternated between typing and groping her big, round tits, while her left hand rested over her pussy, her fingers providing the slightest stimulus as she touched her clit.

Forcing herself to look away from the sexy blonde who wanted to fuck her (God, she really couldn't believe it), Taylor checked the girl's reply.

"Yay! Are you available this Saturday night? You could come over to my place if you want - I've got some stuff over here that's a bit hard to move around ;)."

"Yes, that'll work! See you then!"

Taylor almost squealed. It had been so easy - a week ago, she had been the shyest virgin on the planet, and now she was scheduled to lose her virginity to a fucking pornstar who had made the first move on her. She hadn't really checked her schedule, but of course she was free on Saturday. This was the first event she had been able to look forward to in months, excepting summer vacation, which was still a ways off.

All that was left was to avoid being arrested before then. She didn't need the extra incentive, of course, but it was still a nice short-term reward. Her course set, Taylor began to strategize.

The next day, she made sure to arrive in computer programming early. Partially because she wanted to avoid any conflict before she started getting to work, but more importantly, she wanted to get a good look at everybody coming into the room.

The rest of the class started to arrive in a slow trickle. The first was a brunette girl named Susan - Taylor didn't know much about her, but at least she recognized the name. Taylor gave the girl a small, shy wave to get her attention. She had intended to make a more obvious gesture, but even with the stakes this low, she wasn't exactly the most socially adept girl. Luckily, it worked - the girl noticed the motion, glanced at Taylor, and even gave her the hint of a smile, although that was probably more politeness than anything.

Their eyes met, and Taylor thought at her aggressively. You think my name is Kylie. It was a simple suggestion, nothing really dangerous. That was for the best - Taylor didn't want to be messing too much with peoples' core identities. It also wasn't likely to cause any cognitive dissonance, since Taylor was pretty sure that Susan didn't pay any attention to her at all.

"Hi, Kylie," said Susan as she walked to her seat.

All according to plan.

The next to enter the classroom was Graham. You borrowed that pencil from me and forgot to return it, she thought, concentrating on one of the pencils she could see in the pocket of his backpack. That one worked as well - he approached her seat, pulled the pencil from his bag, and returned it without talking before taking his place.

So far, so good. He had given her the right pencil, too. It seemed that the targets of her power were able to divine her specific intent, not just the words she used to express them.

The next target, a girl she didn't know, didn't get any commands at all, just a mental image of Taylor transforming into a hideous arachnid abomination. That one didn't work, and she got the feeling that her power wouldn't work unless she used some actual phrase as a focus. That was probably for the best - her daydreams wouldn't force their way into peoples' minds unless she thought them explicitly. It didn't make her immune to mishaps, as the incident with Shadow Stalker had shown, but it certainly eliminated some of the risk.

The next attempt, on another girl she couldn't recognize, worked fine. You're convinced that I am secretly an alien spider planning on taking over the world. The girl's breathing hitched, her eyes widened, and Taylor saw her recede into herself. You know I'm not a spider alien - that was a silly thing to think. The girl visibly relaxed. It had been funny, sure, but it wouldn't do to leave that idea floating around. At least it confirmed her intuition: the same thought, with an anchor phrase, had succeeded where the image had failed.

She continued in this manner, conducting small tests on her classmates, getting a better feel for how her power actually worked. She discovered a few important things - first of all, she couldn't implant any suggestions that didn't directly pertain to her. You borrowed a pencil from me worked, but you borrowed a pencil from Susan did not. Her suggestions also worked in the present tense - if she caused people to think about her differently, they would recognize that their thoughts had changed. Luckily, she could get around that by suggesting that their thoughts weren't actually new: you've always thought as opposed to you think worked just fine.

Unluckily, she was pretty sure that whatever suggestion she had actually implanted on Shadow Stalker, she hadn't used that trick, which meant there was effectively no chance that she hadn't noticed the Master influence. She hadn't expected any differently, but it certainly would have been nice. At least now she knew not to hedge her bets.

She had tested almost everything she had wanted to test, and she was about to don her newly-repaired sunglasses when another boy walked in.

His name was Jake, and she recognized him. He was, in her opinion, one of the cutest boys in the school, and some of the whispers she'd overheard suggested that she wasn't alone in that opinion. She hadn't really fantasized about him in any way, but that didn't mean she was blind. And now that she was making use of her power, trying to make her life a little more bearable, she supposed it was only natural to make a move.

I am very attractive. Jake cocked his head at her and raised his eyebrows, looking almost amused. Shit, she had worded that wrong. You have always found me very attractive.

His face changed in a way she couldn't quite interpret, but he was definitely giving her a capital-L Look. The corner of his mouth was ever-so-slightly raised, his eyes were big and blue, his head was tilted ever-so-slightly . . .

He looked like he wanted her. Of course he did, she had made him, but she hadn't expected it to be this drastic.

She was surprised to find that she didn't feel shitty about it.

Intellectually, she probably should have, and she knew that - using her power to make somebody feel attracted to her seemed like it crossed quite a few moral boundaries. And yet, that could easily be rationalized. If she spent three hours every morning doing her hair and makeup, she could probably look significantly better, and she knew that there were girls who actually spent three hours every morning doing their hair and makeup. Obviously what those girls were doing wasn't unethical, and how was this any different? There were all sorts of ways for a person to make other people think of them as more attractive; why would this one be any different? It wasn't like it was because of the time involved, it wasn't like spending time on looks was a morally-consistent way of earning attention from the opposite sex (or, indeed, the same sex.) It wasn't a matter of degree - it wasn't like being too good at putting on makeup was unethical. So what about this, exactly, was different?

It was different because it was mind control, of course.

But Taylor didn't care. For whatever reason, the moral issues she had been so worried about simply vanished. Her power was a part of her, as much as a limb, and it existed to be used. That was all the justification she really needed.

The bell rang shortly thereafter - as Ms. Knott called roll, Taylor stole a glance at Jake only to find that he was staring at her intensely, and he didn't stop on her account. She blushed and looked away. She knew he liked her, she knew it was stupid to be nervous, but she also knew that emotions aren't rational. A cute guy had a crush on her - no matter the circumstances, she was allowed to react to that.

Taylor stood up as Ms. Knott dismissed the class, the bell due to ring in less than a minute. She had had a productive class period, finishing all of the work that had been assigned during the week she was gone without much trouble, and even getting ahead of the curriculum. She started walking toward the door, but found her path blocked.

By a six-foot-one, blue-eyed guy with tousled brown hair and a strong, sharp jawline, a guy who looked effortlessly sexy. He probably had . . . well, not a huge dick, but he was taller than average, so big enough. And he had probably slept with plenty of girls, so he was damn good in bed.

Taylor was getting wet just thinking about him.

It was Jake, of course. Taylor cast her eyes down - he wanted to talk to her about something, and she was sure she would say something stupid and mess it all up, he would figure out she was a complete fraud and want nothing to do with her . . .

"Hey. Taylor, right?" Taylor brought her head up, almost shaking, and nodded. "I'm Jake. Um, I'd like to get to know you better. Do you want to grab dinner sometime?"

He sounded nervous.

Taylor was shocked at just how nervous he sounded. It was as if he thought she might say no. It didn't help her confidence much, but it was comforting, in a way, to know that even hot people worried about rejection.

Not that Jake had any reason to be worried, of course. She managed to set up a date with hardly any stammering whatsoever, an achievement that she was immensely proud of. Thursday night. Two days. The bell rang, and she left class on Cloud 9. Life couldn't be better.

Somebody bumped her into the wall, just hard enough that she knew it was intentional. OK, maybe it could be a little better.

She looked at her assailant - Emma, unsurprisingly, flanked by Madison and Sophia. The Big 3. This had to be planned - she knew their schedules, and there was no reason for Sophia to be in this section of the school.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you came back. It's not like you have any friends around here, and if your grades are any indication, you're not going to graduate anyway," said Emma. Taylor scowled. She had forgotten how awful they were. Not a mistake she would be making again.

It was different now, though. Now, she could fight back, and she had spent a decent chunk of the previous night formulating a plan. She slowly put her backpack down, since she'd probably be stuck standing here for the next little while.

"Looking pretty good today, Hebert!" She gave Madison a surprised glance - this wasn't a tactic she had expected. It was obviously a setup, of course, but they didn't tend toward subtlety. Direct insults were more their style. By the look on Emma's face, this wasn't planned, either.

"You slutting it up for some guy? Forget it. You were ugly before and you'll be ugly again. Even if you fool some guy into asking you out, there's no way you can make it last. I get that you're desperate to be touched, but you've got to accept who you are."

"Nah, Hebert's more the prudish type," says Sophia, hastily interrupting Madison's monologue. Madison looks annoyed - she probably had a whole speech written up and memorized, and now Sophia had cut her off. They continued to pile on insults, but she blocked them out.

Instead, she looked straight at Madison. You're only bullying me because it helps your social status. You think that the locker was going too far. You want to find a way to help me out. Actually, you secretly think I'm pretty nice - I'd definitely be a better friend than these two. The only reason you're still with them is because you don't think that you can stop them yet. The other two keep up their dynamic, but Madison seems to back off, which means that it worked.

Eventually, the two-minute warning bell rings. Emma and Sophia leave, making their way to their respective classes, and she picked up her backpack.

"Hey, um. Taylor?"

She glared at Madison, mostly out of instinct. She knew that the girl wasn't planning on antagonizing her anymore, but old habits die hard, and in any case, it was important to keep up appearances.

"You really do look nice today. I like it."

"Thanks," Taylor snapped. "Whatever you're planning, don't bother. I'm not falling for your shit."

"No, it's not like that!" Madison sounded indignant. "We, um, it went too far. I don't know how but everything got out of control. I'm. I'm sorry," she said, her voice mellowing out. It sounded like she was trying not to cry. "I know this doesn't make up for anything, but I think I can get them to stop. You'll see. I promise."

Taylor walked away, not trusting herself to speak.

She knew it wasn't real. She knew that Madison wasn't doing this of her own accord.

It still meant a lot.

A/N: More not-porn! This chapter is a bit short, but as I was writing it I felt like the narrative had to come to a head here, so here's where it ends. Smut is coming, I swear - in the meantime, please tolerate my half-developed plot.

All feedback is appreciated - I haven't written smut with plot anymore, so I'm not sure how the integration is coming across.

Oh, and just for the sake of teasing: I've figured out the details of Taylor's power, and it's more complicated than you probably think. Feel free to speculate.


	4. Chapter 4

Pulling Madison into a stall in the girl's bathroom. Grabbing Madison's face and pulling it into a deep kiss. Tearing Madison's shirt over her head.

Everything had gone wrong, and Taylor wasn't entirely sure that anything had gone wrong at all.

She had been staring at the back of Madison's head for most of World Issues, and she had just kept _thinking_. Thinking that she had already made enough changes. Thinking that Madison was sort of on her side. Thinking that Madison had told her that she looked _good_.

And then Thinking that Madison might really like her, Thinking that they could just grab a stall during lunch and go at it.

Back to regular thinking. Thinking that Madison was pretty cute, thinking that if circumstances were different, Taylor might have wanted to make a pass at her. There were rumors that Madison went both ways, and Taylor kept Thinking that she did. Maybe she had watched the stream. Maybe she had watched the video.

The lines had been so much _clearer_ this morning. She had chosen when to use her power, chosen the phrases that she focused on. She had convinced some girl that she was a spider alien, and then she had taken that conviction away. It had been a conscious choice, deliberate. Her power had done what she wanted it to do.

But it was different now. Words popped into her head and she pushed them out just as quickly, more impulsive than rational. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about Madison, and she hadn't been able to stop herself from pushing those thoughts onto the poor girl.

Her power was more natural than any limb. As an infant, she hadn't been able to walk, to speak, to throw a ball. She had earned all of her physical intuition by scratching and clawing, except the intuition to scratch and crawl, which must have been a gift from God. This was different. Her power wasn't a new thing that she had to learn - it was the most natural part of her, the thing that, in her mind, she had spent her whole life working to earn. Now that she had it, she used it almost without thinking. This wasn't a tool, it was a new dimension in her mind.

And, based on its effect on Madison, an incredibly horny dimension.

The smaller girl had pulled Taylor aside after class, her mind unalterably broken.

"I need you to fuck me," she had told Taylor, barely able to form even those few words. Taylor, who had been working herself up all class, had been totally ready. They had rushed to the top-floor bathroom as quickly as possible, knowing that the halls would be empty up there, as they always were at this time.

And Taylor had tried desperately not to think about anything.

Madison was completely naked now. She was shoving her tits together, desperately trying to manufacture a figure for herself, knowing that it wouldn't work.

"Do you like my body, Taylor? It's all small and flexible - you can push me around however you want and make me do _anything_." Her voice was high and breathy, quiet and unmistakable. "I'm not beautiful, I don't have nice tits or a sexy butt. I have these little bitty things that the woman at the store calls B cups because she wants me to feel better about myself." A smile. "I'm not beautiful, I'm just cute. I'm cute and small and weak, and I can't stop you from pushing me around."

Taylor had never had sex before, hadn't even _contemplated_ having sex with another girl before until just a week before, and yet she knew exactly what to do. She grabbed Madison by the neck, gaining leverage over her entire body. Madison licked her lips and tilted her head back, exposing the pale, soft flesh under her neck, incidentally tightening Taylor's grip on her.

"You could choke me if you wanted, you know? I could try to pull you off with both hands and it wouldn't be enough, I'm too small and too weak. Don't you think I deserve it? I was so mean to you, I hurt you, I let them hurt you. Maybe you should take revenge, hurt me back. Punish me for what I did to you, slap me, spank me, hurt me." Taylor let Madison's neck loose and pushed her thumb into Madison's mouth - the petite brunette sucked it eagerly, as if thinking that she might extract something.

"I don't want to hurt you, Madison," Taylor said. The other girl almost looked disappointed, but Taylor continued: "Sorry, I meant to say that I don't want to hurt you _now_. I want to make you scream, but you'd be too loud, and someone would hear us. I'll spank you once we can get somewhere private, so nobody can hear you. Maybe you can invite me over to your house, hmm?" The other girl started to nod - seizing the moment, Taylor wrapped a hand around the back of her head, grabbing her hair and shaking her head up and down. "You'll do that, won't you? You'll find out when your parents will be away and you'll tell me in advance, so I can come over and smack your flat little ass while you bend over all the furniture. Won't you?" Another few forced nods, with no resistance on Madison's part. "Yes you will, yes you will," Taylor crooned, adopting a patronizing tone.

She wasn't quite sure what had gotten into her. The sex, sure. This was a buildup to release for both of them, and they both knew it. But she hadn't thought of herself as this kind of partner, domineering and demeaning and in control. It was just that Madison had radiated such submissiveness, and Taylor had immediately fit into the image that the other girl had built. Madison didn't see her as gangly and awkward - to Madison, Taylor was tall, imposing, terrifying. Taylor had simply acquiesced to that image.

Taylor slid her tight, dark jeans and cotton panties, shaking the garments down until she was bare from hip to ankle. Without prompting, Madison lifted her hand to Taylor's cunt, running a finger across Taylor's labia, just penetrating her entrance. Meanwhile, Taylor pulled the other girl up for a violent kiss, forcing Madison to stand on her toes to account for the height difference. Her tongue wrestled Madison's, exploring the tiny girl's mouth, the intensity multiplied by the feeling of Madison's thin, gentle finger along her slit.

Of course, it would be rude not to reciprocate. Taylor lifted her head, pulling away from Madison's lips, and stepped back, making the girl lean forward in her grip. The angle was perfect - Taylor's other hand found Madison's wet pussy and immediately breached it, two fingers sliding through her sealed lower lips and one finding its way inside a hot, tight hole. Madison moaned, staring up at Taylor through hazy, lidded eyes. The little masochist surrendered completely to Taylor's control, her elder by a few weeks. Taylor's finger slid against her walls and the girl bucked her hips, desperate for just a little more contact.

"You're a selfish slut, you know that?" Madison just smiled at Taylor, the picture of joy, desperate to hear what would come next. "You treat me so badly, and now here you are, ready to fuck, and you're just all about your pleasure. We both know I'm in charge here. What can you do to make me happy?" Madison's finger dipped deeper into Taylor, adopting a sort of claw-shape, before she withdrew it entirely. Before Taylor could reprimand her, Madison brought her finger to her mouth and extended it, giving it a long, loud, exaggerated slurp.

"Does it taste good, slut? Do you like how my pussy tastes?" Madison moaned in the affirmative. "So you should eat it, don't you think?" Before the younger girl could respond, Taylor pushed her down, maneuvering her by her scalp until mouth was smushed against Taylor's pussy. Madison, by way of compliance, crumpled down to her knees, allowing herself to be pulled into position and giving Taylor a few playful licks.

"No, bitch. Don't just lick, _eat_ my fucking cunt." With an animal grunt. Taylor pressed the small girl's head tight against her torso, causing her back to arch in involuntary response. Madison's tongue entered Taylor with full vigor, quickly finding her hole and plunging in. Madison's tongue was small, but still long and strong enough to push on Taylor's walls, causing the tall raven-haired girl to grind her lover's face harder into her groin. Madison's lower body finally settled, her butt coming to rest just above her heels, one hand reaching back to stroke her own sex from behind. Taylor would have none of that - she bent forward, causing Madison to tilt her head back in synchronous motion, and used a long arm to grab Madison's hand by the wrist, pulling it back up and she returned to an upright position. Taylor gave one of Madison's fingers a light bite, just hard enough to leave a mark.

"No touching yourself unless I say so. I'm in charge here, remember?" Taylor pulled the submissive girl out of her cunt and yanked her hair up and down, demonstrating her control. "Right now, this is all about me. Until I cum, you don't even get to _think_ about it. Get it?" Another forced nod. "Good."

Madison's face, tilted upward just so, sparked something in Taylor, who sucked her cheeks in slightly before spitting in Madison's face. The spittle covered one of her eyes, forcing Madison to return to Taylor's cunt with one eye closed. With a cruel, theatrical giggle, Taylor looked up, leaving Madison to her own devices.

This was rougher than she had expected. On the one hand, Taylor was having sex the way she wanted to have it - in a larger sense, though, she was facilitating Madison's submissive fantasy, becoming the domme that the younger girl required. It was similar to what she did on camera, despite being the exact opposite - in both cases, she became the lover that her partners needed. On camera, she was the submissive, sexually open girl who promised that she would suck your cock even if you spent all day watching naked girls from your bedroom; here, she was powerful and self-serving, forcing Madison to act as a pleasure toy, which, ironically, was exactly what got Madison off.

If anybody had asked the day before, Taylor would have said that this wasn't her thing. She would have said that she prefered something gentle and kind, a pure expression of love rather than this debauchery. In the moment, though? She was Madison's dream fuck and she loved every second of it.

An idea: Taylor sat down on the toilet seat, pulling Madison's head with her, Madison's knees twisting around to fix her orientation (heh). This way, Taylor could pull her legs up. She could leave them in the air, of course. On the other hand, she could also rest them on Madison's back, using the other girl as a footrest while locking her head between her thighs. Taylor opted for that second option, releasing Madison's hair to free up a hand while trapping her lover's head between her legs.

Madison readjusted her head, burying her nose in Taylor's cunt, letting her tongue push against the bottom edge of those lower lips and wet the skin just above her asshole. Madison shook her head back and forth as best she could, the bridge of her nose stimulating Taylor's clit in a wonderful way. It was enough to make Taylor come, her chest heaving up and down, her legs loosening their grip and allowing Madison to take a few desperate gulps of air. The younger girl lapped gently at her dominant's pussy, scooping the accumulated girlcum into her mouth and swallowing happily, waiting to be told what to do.

"Good girl," cooed Taylor as she recovered from the throes of passion. "Good girl, you made me cum. What do you think you get?"

"I get to cum too," said Madison, grinning dizzily.

Taylor clenched her legs around Madison's skull, forcing her to bury her face once again in Taylor's pussy.

"Wrong, slut. You get to make me cum again. That's what you're good for." Madison obeyed, thrusting her tongue wildly into Taylor's hole, moving her head in every direction to replicate her earlier effect on Taylor's clit. She had a little more wiggle room, so she pulled back and put the tip of her nose on Taylor's button, so that every movement of her head would pull it in a new direction.

Taylor's pleasure was tremendous. Looking down at Madison, she saw an exquisite mess - the girl's shoulder-length brown hair had been thrown astray by Taylor's yanking, leaving her in total disarray. The area immediately surrounding Taylor's groin was slick with drool and cum, which had made its way over most of Madison's head. Her heels rested on Madison's thin, bony back, an inconvenient resting place that nevertheless filled her with the thrill of absolute power. Her hands free, Taylor began to play with her tits underneath her shirt, pushing them together and pulling at them and pinching lightly on her nipples. Spikes of pleasure rocked her body seemingly at random, and she struggled to suppress squeals of pleasure for the fear that someone would hear. It was an ill-founded fear - this floor was hardly in use, and its few residents were in class right now - but the thrill of possibility made everything that much more exciting.

She came again, quicker this time; Madison had apparently figured out where her buttons were, and kept pushing them with zeal as Taylor threw her head back, her breath fluttering.

This time she let Madison go for real, rising to her feat and steadying her shaking legs.

"What do you get for making me cum?," Taylor asked, half-rhetorically.

"I get to make you cum again, mistress," said Madison, playing into her own fantasies in a way that Taylor did not mind at all. Taylor smiled and cupped the girl's head, bringing it to her ass as she flattened her hands against the tiled wall. Madison got the message and buried her face in Taylor's inclined butt. She reached her tongue out to lick downward from her clit. Madison steadied herself by grabbing at Taylor's legs, wrapping her hands around them just above the knee - Taylor was surprised to feel that Madison's hands were quite dry, until she remembered that she had ordered the girl not to pleasure herself, a directive that Madison had apparently followed without deviation.

" _Good_ girl," Taylor breathed softly, half complimenting Madison's obedience and half just making the noises that her body needed to make. Madison responded by pulling backward on Taylor's legs, pulling the soft flesh of Taylor's ass into her face, burying herself in that forbidden crescent.

"Lick my ass, you dirty little bitch." Taylor felt so _powerful_ , it was like she was more of herself. She was giving a command, but it wasn't really a command to Madison in particular. It was like she was exerting her force directly on the world, and Madison just happened to be the target. She would obey, she would be _compelled_ to obey.

Madison obeyed, pulling her head just up and spreading Taylor's cheeks to fit her tongue inside Taylor's ring. As it entered her asshole, Taylor noticed just how small Madison's tongue was. _This little thing has made me cum twice?_ , she wondered as she had her asshole probed for the first time. Madison tried several techniques - licking Taylor's walls didn't seem to do much, nor did drenching the exterior skin in spit. The technique she decided on was simple - stiffening her tongue, Madison rocked back and forth, in and out of Taylor's tightest hole, simulating the first knuckle and of several wide fingers. Taylor felt it all, the intensity of the power dynamic somehow overshadowed by the raw physical pleasure she felt. She came again, her pussy starting to drool and her head shaking - Madison removed her tongue from Taylor's ass to catch the falling girlcum.

"Madison, what are you?" Taylor was being a little too loud. She didn't care.

"I'm a little slut."

"Wrong. You're _my_ little slut. Just mine. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I'm your little slut."

"Your little slut, _mistress_."

"I'm your little slut, mistress."

"Good girl. In fact, you've been so good that I might let you cum. How do you want to cum, Madison?"

Madison opened her mouth to speak before closing it again. If she asked Taylor to eat her out, she would probably just get a reprimanding and be forced to eat her Mistress's pussy again, and as much as she would enjoy that, there just wasn't enough time. Lunch would be over soon, and Madison needed desperately to cum.

"I - Can I hump your leg, mistress?" Taylor laughed, It was the sort of thing she had expected, vaguely, but it was just so _perfect_.

"Yes, you may hump my leg." Taylor rotated halfway toward Madison, extending a leg for her submissive. "Hurry up - I've got to go to class in a few minutes."

Madison mounted Taylor's leg as best she could, trying to find an angle that would give her real stimulation. After about twenty seconds, Madison was pretty sure that she had found the optimal position, and it was working, but she worried that it wouldn't be quick enough.

"May I touch myself, mistress?"

"Of course you may not. You get to hump my leg. Tick tock." It was fun, saying no. Taylor liked saying no.

In the end, Madison's raw desire overcame the inconvenience of her stimulus. She came on Taylor's leg, looking equal parts adorable and pathetic. Her juice leaked down Taylor's skin, making her leg slick. Taylor grabbed Madison by the mouth, squeezing her cheeks and forcing her mouth open.

"I have to go to class now, so I'm afraid we have to wrap it up. Clean me up before I go." Taylor released her and Madison complied immediately, her tongue long and flat against Taylor's smooth leg. "Don't forget to invite me to your house, okay? I still need to spank you for how you treated me." Madison's face got hot and red as she continued her licking.

It was another minute before Taylor's body was completely free of cum - she pulled her pants back on and strode out of the stall, looking as confident as ever, leaving Madison a cum-soaked mess.

As she made her way throughout the rest of the day, Taylor couldn't quite figure out what had happened to her. Out of nowhere she had become a powerful dominant, somehow pressing all of Madison's buttons without knowing at all what they were. What's more, she knew that she would do it again.

But she had needed the release. Her power had been going haywire - once she had opened the floodgates by testing it on her classmates, she had been totally unable to control what she did. Taking her frustration out on Madison, besides being incredibly fun, seemed to have brought her back under control.

Taylor was totally unsure of her position in life, as unsure as she had been before her session with Madison. She still didn't know enough about Shadow Stalker, she still had to make sure that she was safe from her audience, she still had too many secrets to keep and too many problems to fix.

Nothing had changed, really. But somehow she felt a whole lot better.

 **A/N: Guess who's back bitcas. Just got all bothered and had to get this one out. Now with 100% smut! Taylor has changed a little bit so that she can have more sex. I don't think that this fic will survive without such a change, so hopefully y'all weren't reading this for the plot - it'll still be there, but not quite as strong.**


End file.
